


Debunking Shane's List

by MakeYourParadise



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: M/M, Self-Doubt, idk how to tag, oblivious boys, stubborn shane madej
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:54:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 19,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27344659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MakeYourParadise/pseuds/MakeYourParadise
Summary: Shane is bad at making/following plans, but he tries to anyways.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 63
Kudos: 145





	1. Shane: The Man With No Plans

Shane wasn’t much of a planner.

Don’t be confused—preparing video ideas and scripts for work never really felt like “planning” to him. To Shane, that was part of the creative process, simply a stepping stone to get to the product he liked. On top of that, it was his _job._ He was being paid to get it done, it wasn’t necessarily out of his own initiative (though he really did enjoy the work he did).

Where his planning ability really lacks is in his personal life. Outside of work, he was a go-with-the-flow guy. He had no day-to-day schedule (besides work). If life seemed to point him in a direction, he kind of just ambled along it.

For a long time, Shane thought this made him lazy. It always felt like everyone around him was sprinting towards an imaginary finish line, like they were on some insane Easter egg hunt. _Get married. Have kids. Get a promotion._ Ugh, it was exhausting to even think about.

Shane liked the future being a bit of a mystery. Would he have the same job forever? Was he ever going to get a house? What kind of car was he going to drive in 10 years?

Who knows? Certainly not Shane.

For the most part, his aversion to planning had led him to some pretty great places. It most certainly kept things interesting. Some days he wound up admiring a gorgeous sunset, and other nights he ended up drunk off his ass in a stranger’s house. It was the luck of the draw. And still, he had managed to land his dream job, have a nice place to live, _and_ have a solid group of friends.

However, there were definitely times when not being able to plan came back to bite him in the ass. Like how the hanging shelves he put up by himself in his living room were a couple inches off center. Or coming to work hungover because of an impromptu visit to the bar.

And accidentally falling in love with Ryan Bergara. That was probably the most inconvenient one.

Because if Shane _was_ a planner? That wouldn’t have happened. Never in a million years would he have chosen to fall for his coworker, best friend, business partner, _etc._

Shane liked his life to be easygoing though. And if falling in love with Ryan wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, Shane didn’t know what was.

In fact, it was _so_ easy that Shane still hasn’t figured out when it happened. It was unfair really, to think that such a monumental thing happened in such a fleeting moment. That Shane had gone from trying to make his friend laugh for entertainment value to wanting to catch the exact moment Ryan’s eyes flitted to his when he gave a genuine belly-laugh. From joking pushes/touches to having to restrain himself from reaching out to Ryan. From bickering with him for the sake of annoying him to…well that one was pretty much the same. It was cute, the frustrated flush that worked it’s way up to Ryan’s hairline, the way his words suddenly seemed too fast for his mouth to keep up with.

For a while, Shane was sure it was just a little crush that would be gone within a few months. But a few months turned into half a year, and the feeling only intensified. Ryan spent all day with him at work physically, but it seemed like Shane started taking a mental Ryan home every day. A voice that would chide him when the real Ryan wasn’t present to do so.

They were mostly height-related insults, of course.

_Wash the dishes, Sasquatch._

_You should go to bed. Pretty sure someone as tall as you would need twice the sleep anyways._

_Go stretch your long-ass legs, Madej. Take a break._

The real problem started when Shane began craving the real Ryan to be there, saying those things to him. To _actually_ follow him home. For them to have the same home. To bicker with him over something stupid, like groceries. To curl up with him at night.

Yeah, Shane was pretty fucked.

Shane eventually had to make a list for all the reasons it wouldn’t work.

  1. Ryan is STRAIGHT
  2. If it didn’t work out, it would ruin Ryan’s passion projects
  3. He will never feel the same way
  4. You don’t even know if you can commit, asshole



On days where Ryan had been particularly endearing, Shane went home and read the list. Over and over. Until he got it in his head that this would _never_ happen. That it would be a disaster.

So, Shane had been forced to make a plan.

Do _not_ get into a relationship with Ryan Bergara.


	2. How the Cookie Crumbles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane thought he knew everything there was to know about Ryan. This was, in fact, not the case.

Shane poured over the Watcher Weekly video outline for the third time in a row. He wasn’t absorbing the information for some reason, and they were shooting in less than an hour.

_Ugh, I should have gone to bed earlier._

“Coffee?”

Shane forced himself to tear his eyes away from the video outline at the sound of Ryan’s voice and the promise of caffeine.

Ryan, having too much energy for the morning, was holding out a mug—Shane’s mug, specifically, Shane noted with a small squeeze of his heart—with a bewilderingly large smile. Shane fought the urge to squint, like he was staring at the sun.

“Thanks,” Shane said, accepting the cup. “How was the gym?”

That caused Ryan to pause, halfway in the motion of taking a seat next to Shane. He shot Shane a confused look as he finished taking his seat.

“Erm, good. How’d you—?”

“You’re usually all…y’know,” Shane waved at Ryan’s general disposition, “like _this_ when you go to the gym.”

Ryan shrugged.

“Better than having craters the size of the moons’ under my eyes,” he countered, pointedly.

Shane held his hands up in a “you got me there” gesture. Ryan chuckled in victory and began going through the motions of getting all his equipment ready for the day. Shane looked at him for a second. He was surprised Ryan was here, actually. He liked to be early to set.

Before turning his eyes back to his outline, a pin on Ryan’s jean jacket caught his eye. This one was new, but Shane would be damned if he didn’t recognize it.

The bi pride flag.

Shane seemed to lose motor control of specifically his mouth muscles. He fumbled to find a sentence before Ryan noticed his gawking.

“You…uh…erm—”

Shane cut off as Ryan turned his attention back on him. God, he was blubbering like a goddamn fool.

_English, Shane._

“I uh…like your pin,” Shane finally managed.

Ryan’s grin was as bright as the sun again, and relief was so evident on his face. He didn’t even ask which pin. And then things clicked into place.

Ryan had been _nervous_. His excess morning energy wasn’t just from the gym. And, he had come in here with the intent of wanting Shane to notice the pin. So that someone would see it before he went on camera.

“Oh, uh thanks,” Ryan said, trying to appear casual, but it was counteracted by him pretty much speaking in one breath. “I figured…it’s June, so why not, y’know?”

Shane smiled back at Ryan’s nervous grin. He was proud of Ryan’s courage.

His elation quickly turned to confusion.

Had Ryan been openly bi all along and Shane just had been a terrible friend, and had not paid attention?

Or maybe Ryan had never told Shane he was bi because he didn’t want Shane to get the wrong idea?

They’d always been pretty open about relationship details and whatnot. Had this been something that Ryan felt like he couldn’t tell Shane until now?

His flood of questions pressured more words out of him.

“That’s great man! I’m..it’s super cool, to see you…y’know. Be confident and stuff. I…I actually had no idea that you—I mean not that there’s anything _wrong_ with being that! I just…you never seemed to…” Shane trailed off before he could embarrass himself further. Ryan was watching him with an amused expression. _Dick._

“Never seemed interested in guys?” Ryan finished. It didn’t sound as bad when he said it.

Shane nodded, not trusting his mouth to open.

“It was a pretty recent development, to be honest,” Ryan admitted, scratching the back of his neck. “You wouldn’t be wrong in saying that…um. I didn’t seem to like guys, because I didn’t. Until I did, I guess.”

Ryan suddenly seemed very interested in the buttons on his jacket. Meanwhile, Shane’s brain was caught on _recent development._ What did that mean? Did he—was Ryan dating a guy?

He couldn’t ignore the pang in his stomach at the thought. He didn’t know why. He had never been particularly jealous of any of the girlfriends Ryan had had. Maybe it was because Ryan hadn’t told him about this one.

But if Shane pushed past it, maybe it was an amazing thing. For one, Ryan could be with a guy that he really liked. And for two, if Ryan was in a relationship, maybe that could be the tipping point that Shane needs to reverse the process of falling in love with him.

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Shane asked, with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.

Ryan’s head snapped up, his eyebrows drawn together in confusion.

“Erm. None?”

“Oh! I—sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—"

“No, no, it’s all good. I can understand why you would think that,” Ryan cut in, giving a small awkward laugh. Shane wished he could dissolve into a puddle.

His friend was basically coming out to him and he was making this the most unpleasant conversation ever. His brain just seemed to be reeling over not knowing something like this about Ryan. At this point, they had spent so much time together that Shane knew Ryan like the back of his—

Shane’s hypocrisy slapped him across the face.

Shane was bi. He had been on dates with a couple of men. And Ryan had no idea.

“Me too!” Shane blurted.

Ryan cocked his head. It took a second for Shane to realize that his statement didn’t really correlate with where the conversation had left off.

“I mean, I am too. Bi, I mean,” Shane corrected, too caught up in trying to form a sentence correctly to be nervous. “Wow, I think that’s the first time I’ve said that to anyone I know.”

And that eye-searing grin was back.

“Really?” Ryan asked.

“Y-yeah. I don’t know why I never told you. I guess I never knew how to bring it up. And I’m not exactly… out.”

The magnitude of what Shane had done was dawning on him. Though Shane never really gave much thought to what others perceived him as, he did care about what his close friends and family would think. He was out. To one person, sure—and the few he had been on dates with, but they were still pretty much strangers—but to someone nonetheless.

A hand landed on his shoulder. “Hey man, I’m glad you told me now. I’m proud of you.”

It was probably the few dead serious sentences Ryan had ever exchanged with him. Shane smiled, a warmth settling in the base of his chest.

“I’m proud of you, too.”

There was a quiet moment, that, for the first time in the conversation, wasn’t awkward. In fact, it was nice. It was the kind of comfortable silence that you can only really have with people close to you.

It made Shane’s heart ache a little bit.

“So, one day, can we rebrand to the bi boys?”

The startled laugh pulled from Shane was the real-life equivalent of a record-scratch.

“Goddamn it, Ryan, we were having a moment.”

“We still are! Now it’s a _better_ moment,” Ryan replied, his laugh edging toward a wheeze.

Shane playfully rolled his eyes. “Let’s go shoot this fuckin’ thing.”

They were, miraculously, not late to set. As they settled in, Shane caught Ryan looking down at his pin. A shadow of doubt was overtaking his features.

Shane leaned toward him. “It’s okay if you decide you’re not ready. The cameras aren’t on yet, you still have time to change your mind about this.”

Ryan met his eyes, and the weight of his decision was transparent in his face. He absent mindedly brought his hand up to fiddle with the pin.

“I’ll be proud of you either way. So, would anyone else that knows you,” Shane reassured, his hand moving to gently squeeze Ryan’s shoulder.

A small smile touched Ryan’s face. It wasn’t the beaming joy from earlier, but it was just as beautiful, if not more. A sunset after a long day.

Ryan’s hands dropped to his lap. The pin stayed.

Ryan was giddy after the shoot.

Shane loved it. God, he loved it so much.

They went to Chipotle for lunch as a small celebration, and Ryan was talking a million miles a minute. Shane wasn’t even annoyed when Ryan took some of the guac from his bowl.

He probably listened to Ryan with the expression of a dumbstruck lover, but frankly, Shane was so happy for Ryan that he was past the point of caring.

As Shane went to pick up his drink to take a sip, Ryan’s hand shot out, latching onto Shane’s wrist.

“Dude. I _came out_. What the hell?”

Shane smiled, not daring to move his hand out of Ryan’s grip.

“I’m happy for you man. I really am.”

And then Ryan was off again, talking like he had a time limit. At some point, Ryan’s hand fell away and Shane missed its warmth.

When Shane came home to the apartment, his mental Ryan was quiet for once. Maybe real-life Ryan had talked it into oblivion. Shane’s mental Ryan didn’t hold a candle to actual Ryan.

Still, he felt like he could _feel_ Ryan under his skin. Like Ryan had transferred all his energy into Shane’s bones.

 _God_ , he was so proud of Ryan. To be so brave.

Not that he would be caught dead saying that.

The warmth in his gut twisted sharply in a familiar way as he reminded himself _he_ _should not be feeling this way_. Shane exhaled sharply, like a deflating balloon.

Yeah, Ryan was great. But he wasn’t _his_. And it was for the best that he never would be.

Shane opened the fridge, seeking a comfort beer. He mentally recited the list to himself, which had been memorized for a while now.

  1. Ryan is STRAIGHT



…Oh.

Shane paused, the beer bottle touching his lips.

Okay, so that one didn’t really work anymore. Big deal. The other three were still extremely valid reasons.

  1. ~~Ryan is STRAIGHT~~
  2. If it didn’t work out, it would ruin Ryan’s passion projects
  3. He will never feel the same way
  4. You don’t even know if you can commit, asshole



Reassured, Shane took a long swing of his beer.

He had a plan he needed to stick to.

That weekend, Shane took a trip to the mall for…shoes. Or so he told himself. Which is why he left with a hat with the bi pride flag on it, and zero pairs of shoes.

And he most certainly did not just wear it on the day of the next shoot to see Ryan beam at him again. He didn’t even consider trying to say “You were brave, and it made me want to be brave”.

Because doing anything like that would not help his plan.

Fuck, Shane hated planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wow look at me posting 2 chapters in one day. if being terribly slow at writing things doesn't define me, what will?
> 
> Thank you for reading :) please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Also, I have a tumblr if you're into that stuff: @makeyourparadise


	3. A Night to Forget

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane's beauty sleep gets interrupted

Shane would be the first to admit that he loved his sleep. Ryan said he ran on “grandpa schedule”. 

Unfortunately, his lifestyle didn't always allow him to get the amount of sleep he craved. So when he got the chance to crawl into bed at 9pm, he jumped on it. So, he wasn’t thrilled when he was pulled out of a deep slumber by his phone buzzing.

_R: hey sasquatch_

_R: got any weekend plans?_

If it had been anyone else, Shane would’ve decided he hated them. But because it was Ryan, Shane only felt a mild annoyance fumbling for his phone in the dead of night, squinting against his too-bright lock screen.

Shane read the texts once, twice before he checked the time.

Of course Ryan was awake at three in the morning.

_S: you’re really messing with my beauty sleep, bergara_

Shane didn’t even have time to put his phone down again before receiving a reply.

_R: …hate to break it to you, but I think you’re “beauty sleep” isn’t really working_

Okay, maybe he did hate Ryan a little bit.

_S: the audacity_

_S: I have a token face_

_R: if by token you mean cartoonish, I’ll agree_

_R: so, plans?_

Shane rolled his eyes, but his heart did nothing short of betraying him at the mention of Ryan wanting to spend time with him.

_S: I’m going to pretend I didn’t read that_

_S: why’re you making plans at 3 in the morning?_

_R: will you ANSWER THE DAMN QUESTION?_

Shane could feel his mouth quirk into a smile.

_S: jesus fuck, no! I don’t have plans, happy?_

_R: Was that so hard?_

_R: I couldn’t sleep because I wanted to look at the comments on the video_

Oh, right. The video where Shane had worn the bi pride hat had gone up. He felt like he should probably be obsessively checking the feedback as well, but, while he greatly appreciated their viewers, he simply didn’t have the need to be validated by them.

He had been happy enough seeing the massively positive response Ryan had received the week earlier. Shane could only imagine the reaction he caused was about the same.

_S: I haven’t looked_

_R: people are so supportive_

_R: a lot of people said you inspired them :)_

Shane could feel his face heat a little. The praise was undeserved, to be frank. He did it because Ryan had stuck his neck out there.

_S: well, none of it would have happened if you hadn’t done what you did_

He saw the three dots appear and disappear multiple times. _That was too far, Madej,_ Shane began mentally scolding himself. He was interrupted when Ryan finally replied.

_R: you’re impossible_

_R: how about this: we both did something really difficult and we deserve to celebrate a little_

Whatever Ryan was proposing, it sounded like it was going to involve alcohol, and Shane could get behind that.

_S: …I’m listening_

_R: you, me, this weekend, clubbing_

_R: and no work talk_

Shane did not let himself linger on the “you, me” part. He did not let himself think _Will it just be the two of us?_ He did not let his stomach twist at the idea.

Because why did it matter if it _was_ only the two of them? They were _friends._ Friends were allowed to celebrate something as momentous as this together.

Furthermore, Shane went with the flow. Asking questions and worrying about technicalities was not his style outside of work. And the flow was definitely pushing him to get shit-faced with Ryan.

_S: you had me at no work talk_

_R: I guess I should’ve led with that then, but sounds like a plan_

_R: I’ll let you get your “beauty” sleep_

_R: night shane_

Shane was almost reluctant in putting his phone back on his nightstand. He wished…that was a slippery slope. To want Ryan to be next to him, so that he wouldn’t have to smile like an idiot against the glare of a phone screen in the middle of the night. So that he could press that smile into the warmth of a collarbone instead. To have the nights be a little less empty and a lot warmer.

_Woah, what are you? A poet?_

He could almost hear Ryan say those words. Knew exactly how his lips would press against his teeth as he smiled slyly. Floppy hair over bright eyes—

_Okay, Romeo. You sound like a lovesick puppy._

Shane rolled his eyes and tried to seek out the warmth in his bedsheets that he had been cocooned in not too long ago.

_Shut up, Ryan._

_…Night, sasquatch._

Shane fell fitfully asleep, straining against the longing in his chest.


	4. A Night to Forget: The Sequel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan and Shane celebrate.

Shane felt like a walking cliché. How did he get here, scrutinizing his appearance in the mirror, looking for drastic differences between having one button unbuttoned versus having two?

There was absolutely no reason he should have that hint of panic dictating his every action.

They were just going to go to the club and have a couple of drinks. Nothing they hadn’t done before.

_It’s because you didn’t know I was bi, dummy. Everything feels different now, right?_

Shane rolled his eyes. Stupid head-Ryan was annoyingly right. He huffed out a breath, having settled on two unbuttoned.

Things _shouldn’t_ feel different. If Ryan was interested in him, things would’ve happened by now. And he had _a list._

Shane finally left the bathroom, determined to stop second-guessing his appearance. Ryan had seen him roll into writing sessions wearing pajama bottoms while having a rat’s nest on his head before. He wasn’t exactly making a first impression here.

Luckily, there was a knock at the door to end his silent self-induced suffering.

Shane bounded over in a few long strides ( _isn’t every stride long for you? [shut up, ryan!])._ Shane ran another cursory hand through his hair before opening the door. Well, saying he flung open the door was probably more accurate.

He tried not to wince as the door slammed into the little spring-y thing on the wall that was installed precisely because of people like him.

“Wow, seems like I caught you at a bad time. About to go on a Bigfoot rampage?” Ryan asked, the teasing evident in his tone.

Shane finally turned his attention to Ryan, immediately slipping into the banter that came so easy with him.

“Nah man, my rampage nights are strictly Wednesdays.”

Ryan chuckled and Shane stepped aside in a silent gesture to allow Ryan in.

As Ryan walked past, he _definitely_ didn’t take a second to appreciate the triangle of skin peeking out of Ryan’s light blue button-down, or the tight fit of his gray skinny jeans, nor the way the skin of his tanned ankles contrasted to his bright white sneakers.

Because if he _had_ done that, that would be counterintuitive to his plan.

“What a couple of weeks, huh?” Ryan asked, flopping onto the couch.

Shane laughed as he shut the door.

“Definitely worth celebrating,” Shane replied, taking a seat on an armchair adjacent to Ryan.

Ryan _hmm_ ’d in agreement, stretching further into the couch as he let out a large sigh.

Suddenly needing to distract himself, Shane pulled out his phone, ordering an Uber.

Ten minutes and a lot of (slightly insulting) banter later, they were on their way to the nearest club, one they’d been to plenty of times.

As always, Shane was too sober to enjoy the too-many-people and loud music upon arrival. Ryan, on the other hand, had no problem immediately beginning to groove to the music, practically sliding over to the bar.

By the time Shane caught up to him, Ryan already had a beer for the both of them.

“Bottoms up, big guy,” Ryan half-yelled over the thudding bass, throwing a wink at him over the rim of his glass.

Shane was rendered speechless. He excused not responding to the assumption that Ryan probably wouldn’t have been able to hear him anyways.

He managed to down half the glass in one go, and Ryan’s hand was on his shoulder before he could even put his drink down.

“This is our night, dude!”

Shane looked at him, and it was hard to fight the grin that rose on his face when he saw the unabashed glee on Ryan’s. That smile that he loved—liked so much on full display, for everyone to see.

Shane returned the shoulder clasp, squeezing gently.

“I’m proud of us, man,” Shane said, abruptly surprised by how much he meant it.

He gave another meaningful squeeze before letting go, and Ryan followed suit.

“I wanna get fuckin’ _hammered_ ,” Ryan asserted, before throwing back the rest of his beer like it was a shot. He proceeded to order actual shots.

Shane continued to nurse his beer, wanting to gradually build to getting drunk.

He did take one shot with Ryan when offered though.

It was about forty-five minutes later, when Shane was sipping a whiskey drink and Ryan was on his second round of shots that Shane realized that Ryan was going to get _very_ drunk, and that Shane should probably be somewhat coherent so that they both wouldn’t end up passed out somewhere.

He was glad that he had forced Ryan to eat a couple pieces of bread before coming here. That was the only explanation that Shane could thing of as to why Ryan wasn’t drunk off his ass already.

_Distract me, idiot. Don’t let me vomit myself into another dimension tomorrow._

Ugh, even being buzzed didn’t let him escape from his head-Ryan.

Shane looked around for a plausible excuse that he could use to divert Ryan’s attention. His eyes caught on the mass of writhing bodies on the makeshift dance floor. There was a pretty decent amount of both guys and gals.

Shane wondered, with a bit of a tight chest, if one of the guys were to ask Ryan to dance, if he’d accept.

Oh, what the hell. He was drunk enough to not have inhibitions towards asking.

“Ryan!” He shouted, probably leaning too close to Ryan.

“ _What_?” Ryan returned, miffed as he had to set down his still full shot glass.

“So, you’re bi!”

_Smooth, Madej._

Why did he always manage to sound like a complete idiot the times it mattered most?

Ryan blinked at him owlishly.

“…Glad you caught up, Sasquatch! Why do you think we’re here?” Ryan said, obviously holding back a laugh.

“No, I meant—that didn’t come out right!” Shane fumbled.

Maybe he was drunker than he thought?

“But we did! Ha!” Ryan exclaimed, bubbling into laughter that erupted out of him like soda from a shaken bottle.

Shane wheezed, more so laughing at Ryan’s conviction that he had just made an earth-shattering joke. The pressure in his chest seemed to ease.

This was _Ryan._ His best friend. He didn’t have to feel awkward talking to him about anything.

“What I was _going_ to ask was, now that you’re openly out, anyone out here, er, catch your eye?”

Ryan’s eyes lingered on him for a moment too long, and a flush threatened to creep up the back of Shane’s neck.

Thankfully, Ryan’s eyes moved past him to sweep across the club. He pondered for a good minute or so before shaking his head.

“Nah man, not really,” he answered.

Shane didn’t realize he had been holding his breath until it rushed out of him.

“And, even if someone did,” Ryan continued, “I—I wouldn’t want to—y’know. I’m only here to celebrate tonight.”

Shane nodded, taking another sip of his whiskey. More questions seemed to tumble to his tongue.

“You said that, uh. That all this was a ‘recent development’. What did you mean?”

Ryan swirled his finger around the rim of his shot glass and chuckled.

“I, uh. I guess, even though I had supportive parents and all that, thinking of guys… _that way_ …never seemed like an option to me because it hadn’t been _normalized_ or whatever. It wasn’t until I moved out here that I started thinking ‘Do I not like guys because I _really_ don’t like guys, or is it because of something else?’. So, I…y’know. Went on dates with a few guys, and while I didn’t necessarily see any—erm, _long term_ potential in them, I found out pretty quickly that I _am_ into guys.”

Ryan peered up at him as if to gauge his reaction.

“What’s so funny?” Ryan asked.

Shane blinked. He hadn’t even realized he’d been smiling.

“Oh. Nothing. I just—that’s kind of how I realized too, I guess.”

_And being madly in love with you, of course._

_…Did you just think “madly”?_

_Shut up, Ryan!_

“Do you…um. Have a preference?” Ryan asked, trying to seem casual, but the bouncing of his leg gave him away.

“Not really, I guess. I’ve been with both in about equal amounts. I uh…I don’t know, I guess all that really matters to me is if they’re my type,” Shane replied, tapping his index finger against his glass.

“And…what’s your type?” Ryan asked. If Shane had been taking a drink, he probably would have spit it out.

 _You_ , he thought instantly. _I didn’t even know I had a type till I met you._

He was thankful he had decided not to get shit-faced, otherwise he would have said so.

“Oh, you know,” Shane said instead, “Funny, I guess. Someone I can have a good time with. Ride-or-die kinda thing.”

Ryan smiled, nodding. “Sounds about right.”

“What, uh. What about you?” Shane asked as nonchalantly as possible.

Ryan eyed him again. The moment-too-long stare.

Shane forced himself to stare back.

“I think I’m still figuring it out,” Ryan said, before throwing back the shot he had been fiddling with throughout their conversation.

From there, Shane polished off his whiskey, and _really_ began to feel the effects of the alcohol. His wheezes turned to giggles, and while he was still plenty aware of his surroundings, he felt loose and gooey.

Ryan had taken two more shots, and the extent of his drinking seemed to hit him all at once. He tilted dangerously on his chair toward Shane.

“I’m gonna go dance. This music _fucks_ ,” Ryan garbled, half sliding off his chair. He ambled 3 steps away before dramatically turning.

“You coming?” Ryan asked. Shane wished he could take a picture of this half-lidded, head-cocked, sloppy version of Ryan.

“I’m not much of a danc—”

“C’mon, you coward. We’re celebrating!” Ryan interrupted, before decisively turning back around.

Sadly, Shane was enough drunk that that was all the argument it took for him to agree.

Ryan, as always, was a pretty good dancer. Even drunk off his ass. He knew how to move in a way to catch people’s eyes. Smooth, on-beat movements that drew attention to the broad extent of his shoulders and narrow trim of his waist.

Shane, on the other hand, liked to do his best imitation of one of those car-dealership inflatable noodle men. He might have looked like a mess, but it made Ryan laugh in that way where he threw his head back and his eyes twinkled.

He was in the middle of an exaggerated robot when Ryan grabbed his hand.

“You—you said you were proud of me. Did you mean it?” He asked, his face suddenly serious, but his body still very much drunk.

“Of course,” Shane replied, unexpectedly soft.

Ryan smiled almost demurely before backing away again.

“Thanks,” he said, so soft that Shane only knew what he said by reading his lips.

Shane smiled back, letting his hand rest on Ryan’s shoulder for a second. Before he could let it drop, Ryan grabbed it, then used it to spin himself around, as if they were in the midst of a tango.

“Oh shit, Bergara’s got moves!” Shane bellowed.

Their dancing seemed to derail from there. They switched from dancing together, to dancing _together._ It wasn’t explicit in any way, but there was a lot more contact than Shane was used to from Ryan. It was stupid dancing for sure, like a mock middle school dance kind of dancing.

But he kinda liked it. He liked the open-mouthed smile/wheeze Ryan was exuding, and he could feel a stupid dopey grin on his own face.

He should probably put a stop to this soon.

Soon came and went and they still twirled each other around, still reached for each other’s hands, still stood a bit too close.

It was when Ryan started slumping against him that Shane called it.

“Alright, bud, let’s get you home, hmm?”

Ryan groaned in retaliation, but Shane took the fact that he couldn’t come up with an answer that involved words as a sign that they were done.

Shane guided Ryan to sit on a chair while he ordered an Uber.

“This was fun,” Ryan mumbled into Shane’s hand.

It was then that Shane realized that he had yet to let go of Ryan’s hand.

“Yeah, it was,” Shane said, squeezing his hand before pulling away gently.

Shane had planned to get an Uber to his apartment to get Ryan’s keys and then go in another Uber to Ryan’s apartment to ensure Ryan would get into bed, but that plan went out the window for two reasons.

First, Shane was pretty sure that Ryan was probably going to be sick tomorrow morning, and he wanted to make sure he wasn’t alone.

Second, the moment they got to Shane’s apartment, Ryan was in Shane’s bed and asleep without saying a word.

“Goddamn it, Bergara,” Shane slurred. Wow, he was a bit more far gone that he thought he was.

He ducked into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth. He would probably have an awful taste in his mouth in the morning anyways.

As he emerged from the restroom, Shane eyed Ryan’s sleeping form and knew Ryan would hate him if he allowed the possibility of Ryan throwing up on that shirt tomorrow morning.

He sighed, grabbing a large plain cotton-tee out of his dresser and tossing it next to Ryan. He stood next to Ryan as he figured out the best way to approach this. He wasn’t about to be a total creep.

“Ryan, help me out here. Put this shirt on.”

Ryan mumbled, turning onto his back in response, still past the realm of consciousness.

Oh god, was he really going to have to do this?

With shaking fingers, Shane began unbuttoning Ryan’s shirt. The whole while, he kept saying variations of Ryan’s name (or shithead) to try and wake him up.

It was when Ryan’s button down was completely off, and the cool air hit Ryan’s bare chest, that his glassy eyes slid open a little.

“Thank fuck, put this shirt on,” Shane said, _really_ trying to not look at Ryan’s unclothed torso. He didn’t feel right looking if Ryan wasn’t completely aware.

With a little help from Shane, Ryan managed to poke his limbs into the correct holes of the shirt and flop back onto the bed again. The shirt dwarfed him, off course, but it would do.

Shane rolled his eyes as he began looking for spare sheets for a makeshift bed on the couch.

“Wher’ you goin?” Ryan mumbled.

“The couch,” Shane replied, finding a quilt his mom had made for him.

“Stay,” Ryan asked, small, and Shane paused in his tracks.

This wasn’t Ryan asking, this was _drunk_ Ryan asking. But Shane would be damned if he said he didn’t want to.

He sighed. He shouldn’t.

 _Okay,_ he reasoned. _Ryan sleeps like a brick when he’s drunk. As long as you just stay on your side, Ryan will stay on his. You guys have shared beds for Unsolved before. It’s not different!_

Except it _was_ different.

But it was good enough reasoning for his own drunk mind to justify putting the quilt back where it was.

He tucked himself onto the edge furthest from Ryan, but every one of his senses was still assaulted by his presence. The lingering smell of his cologne, the outline of his body in the dark, the _warmth_ radiating from Ryan like he was a heater.

How many nights had he gone to bed, wanting this very thing?

He drifted to sleep easily, partially because of the alcohol, and mostly because of the way his chest felt strangely unrestrained.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I really enjoy reading the comments that are left :)


	5. Let the Eggs Hit the Floor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sleepy morning Ryan is a lot.

Shane was very aware that he was much too warm when he woke up.

And that he felt like absolute shit.

He cracked his eyes open, disgusted by how crusty they felt, like a rusty door hinge. The light coming from his window seemed to initiate the headache that slammed into his brain. It felt like the heavy bass from last night was being echoed against his forehead.

 _Oh fuck_ , _never again_ , he thought/lied.

He did a mental check of his body. He was clothed, no obvious injuries, and…

And there was something on his chest.

Shane felt the headache migrate to the base of his skull as he craned his neck to look down. Ryan lay sprawled across him, like a baby bear.

Before he could panic, the memories came rushing back to him.

_Thank God, we didn’t fool around._

Shane released a sigh, careful not to jostle Ryan too much. He could do without him knowing that they had ended up cuddling at night.

_So much for "sleeping like a brick"._

Shane placed his bets about whether he would be able to get out from under Ryan without awaking him. His chances were pretty good, he thought. Ryan was dead to the world when he was in an alcohol-induced sleep.

Before he could move, he allowed himself _one_ second. Just a moment. To appreciate it.

Ryan by no means was a sleeping beauty. His mouth hung open, and Shane was willing to place bets that the cold spot he felt on his chest was probably drool. His hair flopped in every direction, and his snoring was beyond incessant.

Shane must have been a real sucker to like the view anyways.

Probably because he knew he would never _have_ this. Not the way he wanted. The one plan he had centered around _this_ not becoming a common occurrence.

At the sad turn of thought, Shane was able to muster up the courage to wiggle his way out from under Ryan. It was unceremonious at best, and ended with Ryan being turned over onto his back and Shane scrambling to not just fall onto the floor.

Still, all that happened was a brief interruption of Ryan’s snoring, before picking back up after a little bit of reshuffling.

_That’s the one you fell in love with, really?_

Shane rolled his eyes, too miserable to even think back a snarky remark.

He strolled over to the window, firmly shutting the blinds to lessen his headache and hopefully not induce one in Ryan immediately upon his awakening.

He quickly showered, fumbling around in the dark because he still didn’t want to face the lights.

When the scary thoughts of _What did you do, Shane? You know you can’t do that again_ , started to hit, he turned off the water and toweled off. He threw on the comfiest clothes he could find, and with a peek, found Ryan still asleep.

He popped an Advil, and left two on the bedside table along with a glass of water.

If his temples were on the verge of exploding, Ryan was in for a ride.

He set about making breakfast. Eggs, bacon, orange juice, the whole shebang.

Predictably, when he started making the bacon, he could hear Ryan beginning to stir in his room. Probably bemoaning his own migraine, Shane thought with a smirk.

As Shane piled food onto two paper plates, he turned to take it to the room to find Ryan standing there, watching him with sleepy, bloodshot eyes.

He was…god, it was unfair how pretty Shane thought he looked, even though to anyone else he would probably look like a mess. Shane’s shirt hung off of Ryan’s frame in a way that caused a stir in Shane’s gut. A 9’o clock shadow was evident on his face, but he just looked scruffy and adorable in the morning rays of sunlight.

_I could wake up to this every day._

The thought came abruptly and unwelcome. The jolt it caused in his nervous system promptly caused Shane to drop the plates he was holding.

Scrambled eggs scattered around the kitchen, and the bacon lay sadly next to the plates.

They both stared dumbfounded at the mess. Shane, because of the magnitude of his realization, and Ryan probably because he had the worst hangover in his life.

Ryan was the first to speak.

“I think that’s a sign from God to not eat your cooking,” he mumbled.

All Shane could do was let out a weak laugh.

“I’ll uh. I’ll just clean this up and order something. If you want to go lay down again,” Shane said, looking around for his broom so that he didn’t have to meet Ryan’s eyes.

Apparently, there was no complaint from Ryan because all Shane heard back was a slow shuffle to the room. Once he heard a door close, Shane leaned his back against the wall, swallowing hard.

  1. _~~You don’t even know if you can commit, asshole~~_



_Fuck._


	6. Two Guys, Two Hangovers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turns out that drinking a lot of alcohol makes you feel not great the next day.

Outwardly, Shane was ordering takeout that was nowhere near healthy (but for two hungover guys, it was good for the soul).

Inwardly, Shane was using every bit of self-restraint to not freak out.

It helped that he didn’t even know what to freak out about. Was it that he was realizing _hey, a relationship with Ryan Bergara may be something I want_? Or was it because _another_ thing was crossed off his list? Specifically, the one thing on his list that he could control?

_Well, is it really something you control if you couldn’t?_

_Not now, Ryan. I’m in the middle of a crisis_

Shane pulled out a dustpan and began sweeping up the mess on the kitchen floor that he really related to in that moment.

_I’m just saying, if this is something you actually want, should you really be beating yourself up over trying to have it, sasquatch?_

Shane paused in his sweeping, disgusted by the eggs stuck in the bristles of the brush. He switched to putting them in the dustpan by hand. Which was also kind of disgusting.

_The fact that you’re a figment of my imagination really grinds my gears. You’re supposed to be on my side!_

_You’re just mad because I’m right_

“You’re—”

Shane realized he was about to speak _out loud_ to someone who was essentially an imaginary friend. While the _real_ person whom his imaginary friend was based off of was less than twenty feet away.

_You’re not right! Just because I want to doesn’t mean it’s a good idea, especially for Ryan. That’s the point of the list_

_I think you’re just scared and trying to find any reason to validate it_

As Shane picked up the last of the now cold food off the floor, he decided it was beyond insane to be being ridiculed in an introspective way by a fake version of his best friend. Ideally, he should be laying down and/or shoving his mouth full of greasy food, while doing little to no comprehensive thinking.

_…I’m too hungover for a therapy session. How about you just shut up for now?_

_Okay…coward_

Shane rolled his eyes and tossed the food in the trash. He did his best to clean off the brush. To keep his head-Ryan quiet, he chanted the only thing he had memorized by heart.

  1. ~~Ryan is STRAIGHT~~
  2. If it didn’t work out, it would ruin Ryan’s passion projects
  3. He will never feel the same way
  4. ~~You don’t even know if you can commit, asshole~~



Okay. Fine. There was one less thing on the list now.

But the last two standing were way more important than how he felt. He could _not_ mess with Ryan’s life like that. It would be beyond selfish.

Everything Ryan had worked for—his projects, his business, his _livelihood_ —would be threatened if things were to go wrong between them. That was part of the deal, when choosing a business partner. It was like saying _“hey, I trust you to help keep a good relationship between us because our careers depend on it”._

He couldn’t let that crumble.

Shane considered going back into his room, but upon the thought of seeing Ryan all fuzzy and sleepy and _in his shirt_ again made him too jittery. He decided to sit on the couch and scroll through his phone until the food showed up.

He almost breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the shower turn on.

Ten minutes of blissful no-thinking later, his delivery driver texted him to inform him that he was in the lobby.

By the time Shane walked back into his apartment with an armful of chow-mein, orange chicken, egg rolls, and fried rice, Ryan was sitting on the couch, freshly showered. His hair was damp, and he was dressed in a comfortable looking sweater and worn-down jeans (both of which belonged to Ryan, which was probably better for Shane’s state of mind).

Upon his entrance, Ryan looked up from his phone at him, and Shane felt almost undeserving of the smile that graced Ryan’s face.

It was a little off though. It didn’t quite reach Ryan’s eyes. He was probably having quite the hangover.

“Please tell me that whatever you have is grossly unhealthy,” Ryan said, standing to help Shane.

“Of course, who do you think I am?” Shane replied, allowing Ryan to take half of the food cartons.

Ryan peeked into one of the cartons.

“Ho ho, you’ve outdone yourself,” Ryan praised, quick to get everything set on the table so they could dig in.

Shane brushed off the sort-of compliment in favor of making sure Ryan was okay.

“How’re you feeling?” Shane asked, turning to grab some plates.

“ _Ugh,_ when I woke up it was fucking awful. It’s a bit better now, but I definitely had too much to drink last night,” Ryan admitted, accepting a paper plate from Shane.

That would explain the tightness under his eyes.

“Yeah, I remember. I figured you’d be sick this morning,” Shane said, beginning to pile chow mein onto his plate.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember much from last night.”

That made Shane pause with noodles halfway to his mouth. Much too aware of Ryan’s expectant eyes on him, he forced himself to eat the food on his fork.

As he chewed, he thought about what to say. Ryan obviously already knew he drank a lot. Should he mention the...the together-dancing they did?

Probably not, that might freak him out. Especially the fact that Shane remembered that and he did not.

“Oh, um. Not a lot happened, actually. You danced a lot, and I called it when it seemed like you were about to pass out,” he managed to say.

He side-eyed Ryan to gauge his reaction. He seemed pretty nonplussed, just nodding while he popped a piece of orange chicken in his mouth.

He didn’t expect to feel so let down. For Ryan not to remember the…whatever the fuck they did last night. The touchy dancing, the strange exclamations.

It was probably for the best. Shane wouldn’t have wanted Ryan to overthink what happened at the club, or to try to explain himself to Shane. He knew that Ryan had just been drunk, anyways.

It didn’t mean anything.

“I’m guessing I uh…passed out in your bed?”

Shane cast a glance at Ryan’s nervous tone, and found Ryan unable to meet his eyes.

…Maybe the off-ness wasn’t just from being hungover.

Had Ryan woken up in the middle of the night and realized he was sharing a bed with Shane, and was not okay with the idea?

Or maybe Ryan would have preferred to be taken to his own apartment?

Or _—oh!_

It hit Shane like an oncoming freight train.

From Ryan’s perspective, all he knew was that he woke up in Shane’s shirt in Shane’s bed. That would be enough to drive anyone nuts.

“Oh! We didn’t—yeah, you were pretty much out like a light when we got back,” Shane began. The immediate relief on Ryan’s face was more than evident. “Since I—I thought you were going to get sick, I changed your shirt…I hope that’s okay,” Shane explained, flummoxed at the thought that Ryan thought they might have—

“Yeah, man, it’s all good. I just didn’t know—you know. I can get stupid when I’m drunk,” Ryan replied around a mouthful of egg roll, also clearly flustered.

_Stupid. Yeah. It would have been stupid. Right?_

“I mean, your dancing was kind of stupid,” Shane teased, trying to get the conversation to a more lighthearted topic.

“Fuck off, I’m a great dancer,” Ryan countered, finally looking over at Shane. The unease was gone from his face and the line of his shoulders.

And then it was so easy, slipping back into how things with Ryan usually go. Ryan was blissfully unaware of the events of last night, and even if he did remember them, Shane didn’t know if he’d think much of it.

And Shane—well.

As long as he could not think about how he would probably carry the moments from last night in his top 5 list of memories, and Ryan didn’t even have them in his database; or how the thought of possibly having slept with Shane made Ryan incredibly uncomfortable, it was great.

It was for the best really. Those things didn’t _matter._ Ryan was Shane’s friend, and Shane intended to keep it precisely like that.

So, it was good. Forget that weird touchy stuff and the complicated feelings. Bring on the jibes and banter that was specific to their friendship dynamic.

That’s what would be good for the plan. That’s what he _wanted._

So why wasn’t it sitting right with him?


	7. Space is, in fact, Not a Jam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shane decides that less Ryan-time might be what he needed.

Shane was walking Ryan to his car after work when it hit him.

Maybe it was because Shane realized he purposely walked slow to keep talking to Ryan. Maybe it was because Shane sometimes fumbled out responses due to the fact that he was caught up in admiring the way the sunlight glinted off Ryan’s perfect teeth. Maybe it was the way Shane felt like he had to restrain himself from trying to constantly open doors for Ryan.

_Space._

Shane needed space from Ryan. The more time they spent together, the more of Ryan Shane got to see, the more Shane fell in love with Ryan, it would all ultimately just lead to more pain for Shane.

_Pain for Shane. Heh. That rhymes, big guy._

Maybe it would keep head-Ryan at bay too.

If he could distance himself, maybe his feelings would subside just enough to ease the constant ache in his chest. He wanted to get it through his head that this was something that just _couldn’t_ happen.

He needed a…sub-plan. For his main plan.

A course of action to consolidate his plan.

_Too many plans._

His own thoughts were as insufferable as fake-Ryan sometimes.

Okay. Fine. Not a plan. A…path. A path to get to his _only_ plan.

Minimize time with Ryan Bergara.

He couldn’t do much about it at work, obviously. The main reasoning for all this was that he _didn’t_ want to ruin Ryan’s career, and avoiding him at work would be another surefire way to accomplish that.

But he could back off on the joint lunch ventures. The vacations together. The walking him to his car. The hanging out on weekends.

All that could be cut out.

Well, not all at once, immediately. He would have to ween himself out of plans involving Ryan as to avoid suspicion.

_…Don’t you think part of the reason you work well together is because you spend a lot of time together outside of work? And that you guys are best friends? If you cut all that out, you guys won’t be friends anymore. Just coworkers._

Fuck. Head-Ryan was annoyingly right. Shane wasn’t trying to threaten their friendship either.

So. Ween off their time together, but still spend _enough_ time with Ryan as to not affect their friendship.

Shane could…definitely try. Whether he had the willpower to follow through with it was another question.

But the more he thought about the possibility of un-catching feelings for Ryan, to have their wonderful friendship-work dynamic without the constant internal battle, the more he was sure he could do it. He just wanted Ryan in his life in whatever way he could have him, without his stupid desire for _more_.

_I can do this._

_…hope you don’t fuck this up, Madej._

He started out small.

After a long work day consisting of two meetings and a lot of preliminary writing for episode ideas, the clock hit 5. They had seemed to fall into a 9-5 schedule even though it was their company, and could bend their times a little. But it just seemed like that was the habit they were familiar with, so that was what they ran on.

Ryan, as always, began putting his laptop in his bag. It wasn’t until he was all packed up that he noticed that Shane had yet to make a move to put his stuff away.

“You good, man?” Ryan asked, unfairly handsome in a button down and with his laptop bag strung across his body.

“Oh, yeah. I just—I don’t want to have to look at this over the weekend, so I think I’m gonna stay a little longer,” Shane fibbed. He had no idea what document he even had pulled up on his screen.

Shane tried not to notice Ryan’s eyebrows raising slightly, or the quick frown his mouth twitched into before righting itself.

“Oh…okay. Do you—um. Do you want me to wait?” Ryan questioned, falling into his habit of rubbing his strap between his fingers.

“Nah man, you go ahead. I, uh, don’t know how long I’ll be,” Shane replied.

Why was his heart beating so fast?

And why did he feel so guilty?

“…Alright. Try not to let your brain explode,” Ryan said, flashing a quick smile before beginning to turn away.

“No promises,” Shane called back, forcing a smile onto his face.

Ryan gave one last parting wave before leaving the office.

Shane was left with himself, the quiet, and a growing sense of unease.

The next week, Shane begrudgingly upped the ante.

“I have a novel concept,” Ryan announced to Shane in the middle of their workday.

“Oh yeah?” Shane asked, half-distracted by setting up his agenda for the rest of the week.

“Chipotle for lunch today,” Ryan said, holding his hands up in mock presentation.

It was enough to break Shane’s attention away from his task, a laugh being pulled out of him.

“Oh yeah, we’ve _never_ done that before,” Shane replied sarcastically, rolling his eyes fondly.

Shane opened his mouth to agree when he remembered what he was supposed to be doing, and snapped his jaw closed again.

“Er, actually—”

Ryan’s eyes flicked up to him from his laptop keyboard. Already, Shane felt like a piece of shit.

_It’ll get easier. You just haven’t done this yet._

“I—um. I wanted to get a haircut. And I was going to go during the lunch break,” Shane said, speaking slowly and deliberately.

“Oh. Um. Did you want me to go with you?” Ryan asked, eyes large and innocent. Shane chuckled.

“Nah man, go get your chipotle. I would be a monster to deprive you of that,” he replied, trying not to notice the subtle signs on Ryan’s face that he was a little let down.

Ryan gave a little nod.

“If you say so. Maybe Steven will want to go,” Ryan said, more to himself than to Shane.

 _I_ do _want to go. I just want to not be in love with you. It fucking hurts._

_…that’s a lot of angst, Madej._

_Shut up, Ryan._

Shane got his stupid haircut. He even picked up a sad looking Big Mac from McDonalds.

Ryan gave him a “looks good, man”. Shane tried not to eye the half-eaten chipotle next to his laptop, a pit in his stomach.

This was harder than he thought it would be.

Shane wasn’t particularly religious, but in that moment, he prayed that this would get easier.

Over the next two weeks, Shane managed to dip out of lunch plans two more times, and dodged walking Ryan to his car three times.

While he still did both often, he had come up with excuses enough times that Ryan had stopped assuming that Shane would be doing so. Now he would ask “You heading out now?” or “Got any plans for lunch today?”.

Shane had learned that, no, it didn’t get easier. He still felt a heavy-set guilt whenever he wiggled out of time with Ryan. The way that Ryan tried so hard not to let it show on his face that he was disappointed made Shane’s stomach tie into a knot, probably one he could strangle himself with. But he was so busy feeling guilty about ditching Ryan that he didn’t have the mental room to feel guilty about wanting something more with Ryan.

So maybe it was working.

Despite his best efforts, it _was_ affecting their friendship dynamic, and on-camera dynamic. They would stumble over each other while speaking, and their usual banter would derail into something nonsensical. Shane kept telling himself that maybe once the situation was a little more _solved_ on his end, they could get back to their normal friendship.

It wasn’t long before Ryan finally confronted him.

The third time Shane avoided lunch with Ryan, he came back to a note on his desk.

_Hey Shane,_

_Buzzfeed needed a couple redoes on VO files. I’m in the recording booth. Meet me there when you get the chance?_

_-Ry_

Shane set down his laptop bag and hurried to the recording booth. He wasn’t sure how long Ryan had already been in there, waiting for him.

When he got there, he pressed his ear to the door to make sure that he wasn’t about to interrupt a recording. Upon hearing nothing, he gave two courtesy knocks.

“Come in,” came Ryan’s voice from the other side.

Shane swung open the door.

He blinked in surprise at Ryan just sitting in a chair in the middle of the closet-sized room, another empty chair next to him.

There was no mic set up, and Ryan wasn’t wearing a headset. He didn’t even have his laptop, or a paper copy of the lines they needed to redo.

“I um. Got your note?” Shane said as he entered, closing the door behind him. “I thought we were recording lines.”

Ryan shrugged.

“Nah. I just wanted to talk.”

Shane immediately knew what this was about. It was written in the way Ryan kept looking at his shoes and his high-strung shoulders. Shane took this as a cue to take a seat.

“About what?” Shane asked anyways.

Ryan raised an eyebrow at him.

“You really don’t know?”

The alarm bells in Shane’s brain were really being set off because Ryan didn’t even sound mad, just tired.

Shane sighed. It was long and full of defeat.

“Ryan—”

“Did I do something when I was drunk? Are you mad at me?” Ryan cut him off, the questions seeming to burst out of him.

Shane was taken aback.

Ryan thought it was _his_ fault?

Fuck, that made Shane feel like an even bigger piece of shit.

“What? No! You didn’t do anything wrong,” Shane said quickly, wanting to reassure Ryan that none of this was on him.

Ryan blinked a couple times, his shoulders dropping a couple of inches as he relaxed.

“…but you’re mad at me for something?” He asked, a lot less explosive this time.

“No! It’s…I don’t know. But it’s not you,” Shane soothed.

_Well. It is kind of about him. But not anything he did._

Ryan fully slumped back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. Shane tried not to stare as he did.

“Then…why—?” Ryan cut off, just staring at Shane in utter confusion.

Shane didn’t want to lie to Ryan. Not after all the white lies he had been telling him these past couple of weeks. But the full truth was out of the question too.

“I just…I don’t know. I’ve felt a little in the dumps lately, I guess,” Shane managed. Not a total lie.

Ryan nodded, chewing on his bottom lip in thought. Shane fought the urge to reach out and stop him. To graze the pad of his thumb over the worried skin.

“Have you considered taking a break from work? Like a mental health vacation or something?” Ryan asked.

Shane shrugged.

“I don’t think so, man. If anything, work helps me. I like having something to focus on,” he responded. Also not a lie.

Ryan nodded again, and Shane could see the gears turning in his head. Shane liked everything about Ryan, but he especially liked _this_. When he was in problem solving mode. Unlike Shane, Ryan was good at making plans. Shane liked seeing his process, his proud little smile when he came up with a viable solution. It was probably the main reason he was able to get through Buzzfeed Unsolved: Supernatural shoots. Putting up with the whole “ghosts” bullshit would outweigh everything but this version of Ryan.

“When’s the last time you just chilled? And didn’t think about anything?” Ryan asked.

Shane pondered on the question for a moment, but it didn’t take long for an answer to come to mind.

“When we went to that club.”

“That was three weeks ago! And that doesn’t count as chilling because we were _celebrating._ Still takes effort,” Ryan dismissed.

Shane shrugged.

“I don’t remember, then.”

“Okay. You, my tall friend, need a movie night,” Ryan concluded, standing from his chair. “You need a couple hours of zero brain usage.”

Shane raised his eyebrows.

“That’s sweet of you. To imply that I use my brain in my day to day life,” he said. The idea of a movie night sounded far too good to argue against. Not to mention _popcorn_.

Ryan rolled his eyes.

“I’m trying to be helpful here,” he said, forcefully.

Shane held his hands up in a “okay, okay” gesture.

“Thanks for the prescription, doc,” Shane said in his best Boston accent.

Ryan broke into a grin and immediately picked up his bit.

“Now lissen here, I’ll be there Saturday at 6 o’clock _sharp_ , ya hear me? And ya betta invite whoever else you want ta,” he returned.

Shane wrinkled his nose.

“That definitely went into a weird Scottish accent,” Shane pointed out.

Ryan shrugged. “Not my strong suit.”

“I’ll agree with you there,” Shane said, smiling smugly.

“Fuckin rude,” Ryan said, rolling his eyes.

Shane laughed, and Ryan couldn’t help but smile too.

“Oh shit,” Ryan muttered, checking his watch, “we should really get back to work.”

It wasn’t until Ryan had his back turned to him and had already opened the door that Shane realized he had made a plan with Ryan again.

Well, to be fair, it was more like Ryan was forcing a plan upon him for the sake of his mental health. And it was completely normal for friends to watch a movie together. Plus, Ryan had made it clear that Shane could invite whoever else he wanted to.

_But you’re not going to, right, Sasquatch?_

_…Shut up, Ryan._

What could he say? He missed his Ryan time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am blown away by the comments and interaction with this fic! I'm having such a fun time writing it, and I'm glad people seem to be enjoying it!


	8. At The End of All Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Movie night!!

Like last time, Shane was much more jittery than the occasion called for. He burnt popcorn because he had been too busy pacing around the apartment in preparation.

Burnt popcorn! What a _waste_ of a god-tier snack.

And, of course, that sent him in a frenzy to get the burnt popcorn smell out of his apartment before Ryan showed up.

He was in the process of opening up a second window when a knock at the door startled him. Distracted, Shane accidentally closed the latch of the window onto his thumb.

His pain was sharp and immediate, and he would deny the un-manly yelp that escaped from his body. He jerked his hand back, freeing it from the latch, but also losing more skin in the process.

“Ouch, fuck,” Shane muttered, staring at the bloody tip of his thumb.

Three more knocks at the front door.

Shane grumbled. Little Mr. Impatience indeed.

“Gimme a sec!” Shane called.

He turned, still staring at the damage on his thumb, and promptly careened over the armrest of the couch. He planted face-first into the cushion, and while it didn’t hurt, it wasn’t an enjoyable experience.

_Why are you suddenly the real life equivalent of the “wow, I’m so clumsy” girl in every movie?_

_Shut up, Ryan, can’t you see I’m trying to deal with serious injuries right now?_

Shane, with zero grace, scrambled up from the couch, a little dizzy from the sudden change in position.

He mustered through it, stalking over to the door.

“Shane, is this any way to—”

Ryan’s sentence was cut off as Shane swiftly opened the door, letting out an exhausted breath.

“…treat a guest?” Ryan trailed off, his eyebrows raising at Shane’s appearance.

Shane already knew what Ryan was seeing. His hair was in his eyes from his little couch escapade, his thumb was a bloody mess, and he had managed to rumple his clothes in the space of a minute.

Ryan, on the other hand, looked great. As always. His hair was not gelled up, and instead flopped softly across his forehead. The grin he was trying to fight back made his eyes crinkle, and he looked comfortable in shorts and a sweatshirt.

“Wow, you look like you could use a movie night,” Ryan finally said, stepping into the apartment.

Shane closed the door behind him and saw the teasing look on Ryan’s face.

“Could I ever. I think I just aged ten years in the last two minutes,” Shane replied, his annoyance at his luck dissipating at Ryan’s smile.

“It sure looks like it,” Ryan commented, moving to put his things by the couch.

“How fuckin’ dare you,” Shane muttered, poking around the drawers in his kitchen to find the Band-Aids.

Three drawers and a “eureka” later, Shane was holding the little blue box, and rinsing the excess blood off his thumb. It was still bleeding mildly, but it was hardly concerning.

He fumbled with trying to open the packaging of the Band-Aid.

_I guess having long fingers isn’t really an evolutionary advantage, huh, Slenderman?_

_I may not have dexterity, but at least I can reach things on a semi-high shelf_

“Let me,” Ryan said from behind him.

Shane turned, after taking a second to realize it was real Ryan and not head-Ryan. Then he had to take a couple more seconds to decipher what Ryan was saying.

Ryan rolled his eyes and grabbed the band-aid from Shane’s dumbfounded, stupidly large hands.

Shane opened and closed his mouth several times because there was no snarky remark or funny comment he could make. Not while Ryan was holding his thumb so gently. Not when Ryan’s nimble fingers made easy work of the band-aid, wrapping it with soft touches.

“Ta-da!” Ryan said, stepping back to let Shane admire his handiwork.

Shane just blinked unthinkingly at Ryan’s bright eyes and beaming smile.

 _I love him_ , he thought, ferociously. It echoed around his skull as if he had shouted it from a cliffside.

_I love him, I love him, I love him._

“Thanks,” was all his mouth managed, barely over a whisper.

Ryan’s expression changed subtly, becoming…softer, somehow.

Shane wondered if Ryan could hear his thoughts. Or maybe Shane was as much of a dumbstruck lover outwardly as he was inwardly.

_This is way too much of a chick-flick moment for a band aid_

_Hey, head-Ryan. Maybe you could, I don’t know, leave me the fuck alone when I’m with real Ryan? I kinda like him better._

_I may be the only Ryan you’ll get if you don’t make a move._

_…guess it’s just you and me._

_Coward._

Lost in his internal argument, Shane realized he had missed something Ryan had said.

“Huh?” Shane asked.

Ryan rolled his eyes.

“C’mon, you caveman, keep up. What movie are we watching?”

Relieved at the change of subject, Shane smiled broadly, walking over to the shelf next to his TV.

“Well, I don’t think _movie_ is a strong enough word,” Shane said, gliding his fingers across the rows and rows of movies.

Yeah, having DVDs was a little old-fashioned, but he kind of liked having the actual physical copies.

He turned his head to see Ryan just raising an eyebrow, waiting for Shane’s grand reveal.

“I think I’m more in the mood for a _trilogy,”_ Shane said, pulling out the correct movie and showing it to Ryan with a flourish.

“Lord of the Rings?” Ryan exclaimed. “Dude, I haven’t seen those in forever!”

Shane knew it was just over a movie, but he felt immensely reassured that Ryan seemed happy with his choice.

“Well, tonight’s the night,” Shane said.

Shane was about to pop them into the console when Ryan cleared his throat. Shane looked over expectantly.

“Are you really about to start the movie with no _popcorn_?”

Shane wheezed.

“Ah fuck, I accidentally burnt some earlier, and I totally forgot to remake them. Good catch.”

Ryan threw his hands in the air in an annoyed motion.

“You _burnt_ perfectly good popcorn?” He said, incredulous.

Shane laughed again. It was going to be a good night, he decided.

They were one-third of the way through The Two Towers when Ryan conked out.

Shane was hardly surprised; he was pretty tired himself. He eyed the empty popcorn bowl. A belly full of corn will knock you out.

He hated to admit it, but Ryan had been right. A movie night was doing him wonders.

He could feel the seemingly never-ending tension in his gut relax a little, and his brain fell down a couple gears. He felt strangely rejuvenated.

Shane considered waking Ryan up, but decided against it. The guy needed his sleep, too.

He continued to watch the movie. There was something so comforting about it, being in the dark and only lit up by the TV screen. The nostalgia from the movie mingled with the way he felt at ease, and with Ryan next to him….

Man, he felt good about life in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

He was brought out of his thoughts when he felt something hit his shoulder.

Ryan had slumped far enough over in his sleep to be leaning against Shane. Again, he debated waking him up, so that he wouldn’t get a crick in his neck, or so he could go home if he wanted to.

But Shane could see the peace he felt reflected back at him from Ryan’s sleeping face, and he couldn’t bear to wake him and see all the tension a human carries return.

So, Shane shifted a little, allowing Ryan to lay on his shoulder without his neck being at an angle. The weight of his head was nice. And warm.

Normally, his brain would be screaming about how much he shouldn’t be doing this. About how he had a list to follow. That this would only make things worse. But Shane wanted that part of his brain off for one night.

He knew he could never _be_ with Ryan that way. That didn’t mean he had to torture himself when he was in Ryan’s presence every day.

_Enjoy this. Just once, enjoy this._

Shane smiled. He would.

Shane woke up from the early rays of dawn fighting through the very window he had opened last night.

His back felt stiff from being on the couch. His neck didn’t feel great either.

Shane cracked open his eyes to find himself approximately two inches from Ryan’s sleeping face.

He had to stop himself from rearing back, in risk of waking him up.

_Fuck._

Their legs were tangled together, and their torsos were not far from being in complete contact with each other. How had they ended up like this?

They were both laying lengthwise on the couch, facing each other, and Shane had his back to the back of the couch. Maybe Shane had slipped onto the couch the opposite way from Ryan, and Ryan had just kind of followed him?

It didn’t matter how they got there; Shane needed to figure out how to detangle himself from Ryan before Ryan woke up.

Shane was about to start gently extracting himself, but that same lax look on Ryan’s face that had so enamored him the morning after the club, and again last night, worked it’s charm again. It was like looking at a sculpture in a museum.

So close, right there. But no touching.

Except Ryan was better than a sculpture. He was funny, smart, creative. He worked so well with Shane’s personality.

If Shane believed in fate, he would say that there was a reason he had met Ryan Bergara. That he had met someone so complimentary to him, so _easy_ to love. Maybe Shane was made to love Ryan. Maybe that was his eternal purpose or whatever. To adore, admire, care from a distance.

To love someone that could never be his.

Wasn’t that a grand notion?

But Shane didn’t really believe in fate, so it was probably just one big coincidence. A coincidence he highly appreciated. The best thing his happy-go-lucky life had led him to.

_What is so bad about giving it a shot, Madej? You are obviously head over heels for this guy. You made a mini-him in your head, for God’s sake._

_The li—_

_If you say “the list”, I’m…I don’t know what I’ll do, but I’ll be upset._

_But that’s why the list exists. To remind myself. Ryan will never feel the same, and I am so intertwined with his life, that I can’t risk…if it were to happen, but it didn’t work out, I would never forgive myself for ruining all the projects he started with me. Those were his. I have no right to potentially mess them up for him._

_Whatever. I still think it’s because you’re scared. But sure. Stare at him some more and be all sad about it for all I care._

Shane really had to work this head-Ryan thing out. It was too good at arguing.

He sighed. He needed to get up.

…but he may never have this chance again.

Shane found himself raising his arm, his bandaged thumb hovering over Ryan’s cheek. He wasn’t going to touch. He just wanted to—

Ryan opened his eyes.

Shane retracted his arm so fast it slammed into his own chest. He could feel the panic there as Ryan blinked blearily, trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

And Shane knew how compromising this looked. He could pinpoint the exact moment it dawned on Ryan that they were tangled together, that Shane was awake, that he was letting this happen.

_Oh no, oh fuck, oh god—_

The barely-there gap between their faces became too telling.

Shane’s brain scrambled, going from groggy-morning thoughts to speeding at ninety miles per hour trying to think of something, _anything_ to say that would _fix this._

He couldn’t lose Ryan like this, he couldn’t—

“I’m going to do something stupid,” Ryan said in a rumbling morning voice, breaking Shane’s frantic train of thought.

Before Shane could say anything, Ryan had closed the gap, and pressed his lips against Shane’s.

And Shane short circuited.

There was no before, no after. He didn’t exist. Nothing did. Just Ryan’s mouth on his.

That…that Ryan had put there.

It wasn’t longer than a peck, but he could feel the axis of his world tilting, spiraling out of control.

His mind was blissfully quiet. Like it had run into a brick wall and shattered into a billion pieces.

It was when Ryan pulled away that Shane realized he had been about as responsive as a dead body, and he could see it in Ryan’s face.

“Fuck, I should’ve made sure—”

And Shane was not about to have a second of Ryan feeling guilty. Not after that.

“No, I just—I think my brain fell out of my skull. I just need to know, was…um. Was that an accident or did you actual want to do that?” Shane asked, his voice strangely raw.

Ryan blinked at him repeatedly with glassy eyes. “What?”

“Like…are you going to regret this?” Shane clarified. He needed to be sure.

Ryan’s brow furrowed, and Shane wished he could drain all the stress from his face that hadn’t been there two minutes ago.

“If you’re asking if it was…a heat of the moment thing, then no. I uh. I’ve been wanting to do that for a while,” Ryan admitted, a flush evident on his face, “I’m sorry if—”

This time, Shane did touch. He slotted his hand onto the side of Ryan’s face and kissed him.

Ryan’s lips were a little dry, and still tasted faintly of popcorn, but Shane would be damned to not like it anyways.

He was kissing Ryan Bergara.

Ryan was a little resistant from surprise at first, and then absolutely melted into Shane.

Shane knew in that moment that he was done for. There was no undoing loving Ryan Bergara. Not after touching him, kissing him like this. Maybe he was a goner from the beginning.

It was a little sloppy, far from perfect. How it always is the first time you kiss someone.

But Shane was cozy, Ryan was warm, and it was…

Everything he wanted.

Shane hesitantly opened his mouth, and Ryan reciprocated, turning their kiss into a lazy, early morning make-out session.

Holy shit, he was making out with Ryan Bergara.

And Ryan Bergara was making out with him _back._

  1. ~~He will never feel the same way~~



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> STILL amazed by people seeming to like this fic!! I love reading your comments, it really does encourage me to keep writing.  
> This one's for you guys :)


	9. Best Morning Ever (doubtful)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning

As the sunlight grew stronger, and Ryan’s stomach gave a prominent growl, they laughed and untangled from one another.

Ryan excused himself to the restroom in order to sort out his especially cowlick-ed hair and morning breath.

Shane managed to sit on the couch for all of about fifty seconds before the inevitable _what have you done_ thoughts came rolling in. Determined not to ruin possibly the best morning of his life, Shane beelined to the kitchen to distract himself.

This time, Shane managed to make eggs, bacon, and toast without any of it ending up on the ground. He was pouring orange juice into ridiculous looking mugs when Ryan emerged, freshly showered. A couple droplets lingered around his neck, and Shane didn’t bother trying to explain why that made his stomach tighten.

He waited for the panic to hit, the one he was so used to having when he was around Ryan.

It didn’t.

“Wow, look at you making breakfast and keeping it on the plates,” Ryan teased, eyes crinkling.

“I’m pretty proud if I do say so myself. This is up there with graduating from college,” Shane returned, sliding the orange juice back into the fridge.

He was severely underdressed compared to Ryan, but it would be more awkward trying to explain changing just for breakfast. He did, however, duck into the restroom to brush his teeth.

Upon returning, he found Ryan ungracefully shoveling eggs ungracefully into his mouth. It made Shane pause, an obviously dopey grin on his face.

Ryan looked up, talking around a mouthful of food. “What?”

Shane just shook his head.

“Nothing.”

He didn’t know how to explain the sudden fondness overtaking him. The juxtaposition between the Ryan who he had been kissing all morning to this Ryan was striking. But it was still _his_ Ryan. He loved that he could have both.

_If you fuck this up, you’ll have neither._

The rogue thought was highly unwelcome, and settled in Shane’s gut like a Tetris block that had been one off from clearing the board.

Shane pushed it down. He could think about that later.

They ate breakfast together, and it was remarkable how…normal it was. How easy it was to slip back into their banter, their friendship, though they were both very much aware that the course of that morning had changed things for them.

It was when the plates were in the sink and they were lounging with full bellies when Ryan asked the million-dollar question. Kind of.

“So…you don’t have to answer this—um. If you don’t want to. But are we…do you want to. I don’t know how to ask what I’m asking,” he said, flustered. Shane wouldn’t have done much better broaching the subject.

“I think I know what you’re getting at,” Shane began, shifting on the couch. He was becoming acutely aware of the implications of their decision, whatever it may be. It would affect everything. They couldn’t rush into something over a groggy make out session.

“I think it’s something we should really think over. It’s—it’s a big decision,” Shane said slowly.

Ryan nodded, chewing on his bottom lip.

“What if…um. Either of us decide that it’s too big of a risk?” Ryan asked, obviously not enjoying entertaining the possibility.

It was a fair question, though. Shane could hear the underlying _“Would we still be friends like we were before?”_

“I think we’d be mature enough to erm—move past all this. You’d still be my best friend,” Shane said with a smile, but there was a strange heaviness to it.

Ryan breathed an obvious sigh of relief, before also returning a tentative smile. “You’d still be my best friend, too.”

Shane reached out and gently took Ryan’s hand in his own, rubbing his thumb across the back of it. He tried not to think about whether this was the first and last time he would be able to do that. Ryan, seemingly echoing the sentiment, squeezed back.

“I need…a uh. A deadline,” Ryan said, looking at their hands rather than Shane’s eyes.

Shane chuckled.

“This isn’t a work project, Ryan. You can take your time with this.”

Ryan shook his head, but he looked amused. “No, I mean—I know it’s not a work project. But if I have…a set date, to decide by. I’ll be better at making myself make a decision.”

Shane playfully rolled his eyes, allowing his other hand to come up to also hold onto Ryan’s.

He didn’t want to. Not because he was going to struggle to have an answer. The way his blood felt like warm honey in his veins right now pretty much solidified his answer.

He would much rather not have an invisible countdown hanging over Ryan’s shoulder. But seeing the way Ryan was looking at their hands—the weight in his eyes contrasting to the floppy, relaxed nature of the rest of his body—he knew this was something Ryan really needed.

“You can choose the deadline,” Shane muttered. His internal clash was eased a little at the relief in Ryan’s eyes. Shane supposed he could understand, through Ryan’s eyes, having something concrete to guide him through this process.

Shane’s go-with-the-flow attitude didn’t work for everyone.

Ryan hesitated for hardly a moment before deciding. “A week from today.”

Shane tried not to raise his eyebrows, and gave a small nod instead. That felt kind of soon. But Ryan had always been ambitious.

“And um.”

Shane stiffened at Ryan’s nervous tone.

“It may be a good idea to…not really hang out this week, y’know?” Ryan said, very fast, as if he were ripping a band-aid off.

_AKA: doing all this cuddly shit may mess with my head_

_What did I say about making an appearance when I’m around actual Ryan?_

_I guess I listen about as well as the real Ryan._

“That’s a good idea,” Shane said, smiling encouragingly. He wanted Ryan to make the choice that was the best for him, however he needed to.

Ryan deflated from an exhale of liberation.

Shane took the opportunity to not-so-subtly release Ryan’s hand.

Ryan, however, chased his retreating hand and grabbed hold of it again.

“I want to have this,” Ryan blurted. There was an unsaid second part of that sentence.

_In case this is the last time._

Shane felt his face melt into a grin, despite the anticipatory heaviness in his chest. He allowed himself to instead put his arm around Ryan, and Ryan seemed to happily tuck himself into Shane’s side.

They stayed like that, cracking jokes every now and then in the way they did, until Ryan had to leave.

Shane’s mouth went dry as he walked Ryan to the door. He couldn’t help but feel like he was in a bubble of euphoria that would pop the second Ryan would step out the door. That everything that had felt so real and sure a couple hours ago would become an uncertainty.

Ryan paused with his hand on the door handle, before turning to Shane unexpectedly, giving Shane no choice but to be all up in his space. Ryan stretched onto his tiptoes and planted his lips on Shane’s again, so similar to this morning.

This time, Shane kissed back.

This time, Shane felt more of a _goodbye_ than a _hello_ and he hoped he was being paranoid.

When they parted, Shane could see all the doubt and fear that was suffocating him reflected back at him from Ryan.

Still, Ryan gave a small smile.

“See you, Shane,” he said, opening the door.

And Shane had been right. The second Ryan crossed over the threshold; their little sphere of bliss was demolished. He had to struggle to not be overcome by the flood of negative thoughts in front of Ryan.

“Bye,” he managed.

Ryan walked away. The door shut. Shane leaned against it, rubbing his hands across his face, wincing at the stubble that resisted the movement.

Why did he not feel good about this?


	10. The Consequences of Making Out With Your Co-Worker 101

If getting through work while secretly being in love with Ryan was brutal, doing it after having kissed him was impossible.

On Monday, Shane strolled into work late. Not because he was actually running late, but because he had sat in the car for about 20 minutes trying to hype himself up to act casual. Of course, the first thing that happened when he walked into the building was that his eyes immediately latched onto Ryan. Shane had to force himself to not freeze and stare. Could he have been any more obvious?

He should just wear a sign that said “I made out with my business partner and I don’t know how to handle it!”

Ryan, on the other hand, seemed to either a) be doing the best poker face Shane had ever seen out of him or b) was genuinely unfazed by the whole ordeal.

Ryan didn’t even look up until Shane slumped into his chair.

“Hey, man,” he said, nonchalant, before turning back to his laptop.

Shane blinked, trying to swallow away the cotton-y feeling in his throat.

“Hey,” he responded, before also pulling out his laptop.

From there, Shane easily had the least productive work day of his life. He clicked between two tabs and a Word Document, and hoped it looked like he was doing work.

He felt like he was hyperaware of Ryan’s every movement. Every click of his keyboard, every mindless drumming of fingers, every shift in position.

He was being assaulted by the memory of those hands in his, the lips now pressed into a firm line smiling against his own, how his hair had brushed against Shane’s temple.

The only thing that gave him semblance of comfort was that Ryan’s poker face wasn’t as perfect as he thought. In his attempt to keep things as normal as possible, he had tipped the scale too far and things were _too_ normal.

The small talk or jokes they both tried to make were obviously strained, and crumbled like dry Play-Doh. The silences were too silent. Every now and then, he would catch Ryan peeking at him through the corner of his eye.

It was nice to know that he wasn’t the only one struggling. But, at the same time, the reciprocation of the out-of-place feeling made the awkwardness there almost palpable.

Shane found himself having to leave the desk often to clear his head. He wound up getting coffee cup after coffee cup.

It was on his fourth cup that Ryan closed his laptop meaningfully. Not that Shane was watching.

“Shane.”

He feigned being brought out of his work.

“What’s up?” Shane responded, drawing another long sip of coffee.

Ryan sighed. Shane could see the obvious tiredness in his eyes, the tension in his shoulders.

“You doing okay?” Ryan asked, his voice low, but not too obvious.

Shane nodded, while probably also making a face that matched one he would make if he was stepping on glass. “Yeah. Just tired, I guess. You?”

Ryan shrugged.

“Same here, I think.”

There was another stunted silence.

Then, “I was um…going to go to lunch, actually. You’re welcome to come with. If you want.”

The way Shane froze at Ryan’s request was probably answer enough. It was too risky.

Why did Shane think he would be able to do this?

How had he been so sure that they could be adults about this and then have trouble even getting through a work day?

“Oh. Um—I’m not sure—”

The effect was immediate. He could see Ryan shift uncomfortably away from Shane, like he was about to bolt. Shane felt like shit.

“Yeah, I shouldn’t have—yeah. I’ll see you later then,” Ryan managed, barely grabbing his keys before scrambling out the door.

_Fuck._

Shane spent his lunch in his car, far from having an appetite. It was ironic how badly he wanted to go back to simply pining for Ryan.

Shane shifted uncomfortably for the umpteenth time.

Why was he acting like this was already over?

_Because you’re afraid he’ll say no, dumbnut. Told you you’ve always just been scared._

_Oh great. So glad to hear from you._

_You ever notice I show up when you’re trying to convince yourself Ryan is someone you can’t have? There’s a surefire way to get rid of me._

_I…It’s Ryan’s decision. I already know my answer._

_He kissed you, you idiot. Pretty sure you know his answer, too._

_Pretty sure I don’t._

_Well. Looks like you’re stuck with me until he proves you wrong._

Shane sighed.

He shouldn’t feel awkward. This was the right thing to do. Ryan should have time to decide, and if he decides no, then that’s that. Better to cut…whatever this was short rather than prolong it into something destructive.

Shane would respect it. Of course he would.

He just knew that after getting a taste, after having that domestic morning with Ryan…

It would be a lot harder.

But he’d do it. For Ryan. He always would.

Shane came back early and dropped into his office chair again. He was determined to fix the awkwardness and not let it ensue.

He perked up when Ryan came back in, and waited till Ryan was hesitantly setting his stuff down on his desk before speaking.

“Hey man, I’m so—”

Ryan cut him off. “No, don’t worry about it. I know this is hard, but we’ll figure it out.”

The small smile on Ryan’s face seemed genuine, and Shane found himself relieved, and also reassured.

They _would_ figure it out. Together. Because that’s how they did things.

The rest of the day passed relatively uneventful. There were still moments where they weren’t quite as in sync as they usually were, but they both seemed to be on the same page.

Upon arriving to his apartment after work, Shane had a beer in his hand before he knew it. Alcohol allowed him to really loosen up on his thoughts and be honest with himself.

Was he scared of Ryan deciding no?

Of course.

Deep down, Shane could feel it. That having something with Ryan could be _it_ for him. He knew he would never want more, never get tired. And he may never feel that with someone else.

But was Ryan being happy more important to him than that?

Without a doubt.

Before everything else, Ryan was his best friend. Best friends are supposed to encourage each other to get what they want and drop what they don’t.

Besides, Ryan saying no wouldn’t mean Ryan would no longer be in his life. If he learned anything from today, it was that they were ride-or-die no matter what. It was just the context of their relationship that might change.

So, Shane was willing to accept whatever kept Ryan in his life.

It was kind of freeing, knowing it was out of his hands. Whatever happened, whatever Ryan decided, he would go with it. Dealing with the feelings would come later, but it was nothing he wasn’t used to.

It wasn’t till later into the night, when he had three beers in his stomach and was huddled into his blankets, that he thought of the alternative for the first time.

_What if he says yes?_

The thought floated around him, warm and ethereal, comforting to his drowsy mind.

Before it strangled him awake.

A relationship with Ryan Bergara?

It had seemed infeasible for so long, that the concept was hard to grasp.

Yes, they had had that little make-out. But an _actual_ relationship? Holding hands, going on dates, making important decisions together?

Having _every_ aspect of their lives intertwined, personal and business?

What if…

Oh god.

What if they figured out that they didn’t line up romantically _at all_? What if they had a big, ugly breakup?

There would be no guarantee of Ryan staying in his life. Of them making it work.

Shane suddenly felt ten steps behind. _This_ had been the reason for the week to make the decision. To decide if it was worth risking everything they had built so far, friendship-wise and career-wise.

And the more he thought about it, the less he felt sure about being all in.

_Shit._


	11. Being an Adult Doesn't Certify Your Ability To Make Decisions

Shane laid in bed the next morning for probably too long.

The universe seemed to be laughing at him.

He had made a plan. A list. For the sole purpose of _not_ getting into a relationship with Ryan Bergara.

And it seemed silly, he knew. In the back of his mind, the list had been voided the second Ryan had pressed his lips against his. But maybe it shouldn’t have been because there was still a valid point on there.

  1. If it didn’t work out, it would ruin Ryan’s passion projects



His original reasoning for the plan had been to not make a fool out of himself while in love with his best friend. The motive behind the list may be different now, but it still stood that it was a reason, a big reason, to not be with Ryan.

Would Shane be able to forgive himself if, under the circumstances that they did actually date, things went south and ruin the things Ryan had dedicated years of his life to?

Would he be content _not_ taking this chance and then wondering for the rest of his life what he could have had with Ryan?

Shane rubbed his hands over his face in a frustrated gesture. It was too early to be thinking about these things.

But, at the same time, he was much too late in contemplating those situations.

Shane begrudgingly rolled out of bed. It would be a long week.

Shane could not stop staring at Ryan.

Unlike the day before where he was trying to avoid eye contact at all costs, Shane felt like he _had_ to. He had to drink every bit of Ryan in.

It broke Shane a little, honestly. He knew, deep down, what his motive behind it was.

No one could watch Ryan at work and not say that he was a man dedicated to his craft, or that he didn’t love the things he did.

Sure, he scrunched up his face at a laptop screen for a good chunk of his day, but there was passion in the furrow of his brow. A deeply rooted desire to get it _right_ , to accomplish his vision. Or it could be seen when he talked animatedly about possible ideas, exchanging creative input among the team. Not to mention the cloud nine feeling Ryan radiated when he finished a project. The utter pride and sense of achievement that he deserved to have.

That Shane truly had no right to mess with.

As the day went on, and Shane was reminded over and over again about Ryan’s devotion to his work, he could feel a pit grow in his stomach. He was borderline nauseous as he slowly drifted toward the conclusion that his subconscious had already been at.

He swallowed hard.

He had to. He had to and he hated it. He was _lucky_ to even have a shot with Ryan and he was going to…oh fuck, was he really—

“Shane?”

Shane felt almost reptilian as his surely-bulging eyes met Ryan’s unfairly concerned one.

“You okay, man? You look kind of…puke-y,” Ryan joked. His smile fell away when Shane didn’t return any humor.

Shane automatically began to nod yes, but he stopped himself.

“Um. Actually, I kind of feel like shit,” he managed.

Ryan’s mother-hen nature was immediately present. Shane swore he saw Ryan restrain himself from putting the back of his hand against his forehead.

“Yeah, I haven’t seen you look like this since those gas station hot dogs. You should call it a day. Head home and rest.”

Shane met Ryan’s gaze reluctantly before flicking his eyes back to the video outline he was supposed to be editing, but had really only read the same sentence over and over again.

Shane had to restrain himself from flinching when Ryan reached out to put his hand over Shane’s. How dare he allow himself to be comforted by someone he was likely about to hurt?

“Don’t worry about it, dude. Seriously, go home. I’ll talk to Steven,” Ryan urged.

Shane did not have the ability, nor good reason to, argue. He stood, zombie-like, and gathered his things. He tried to not notice the curious heads that popped up at his departure.

“Hope you get better,” Ryan said, in lieu of a goodbye.

Shane let his gaze catch on Ryan one more time before nodding. “Me too.”

He was tempted to pull Ryan’s hat off of him. Just so he could see his floppy hair underneath. Maybe even run his fingers through it. A last semblance of intimacy.

Instead, Shane ducked his head and left the building. He refused to let himself think about anything besides the road until he got home. Even then, when he was leaning heavily against the door of his apartment, the tsunami of indecision lay dormant.

His whole brain felt muffled, like his cranium was filled with cotton. Maybe he had willed himself into actually being sick. For once, he felt strangely grateful to his mind.

He was in bed in an instant, falling into a dreamless sleep.


	12. Sorry, List Can't Come to the Phone Right Now

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ryan freaks out when Shane doesn't answer his phone

Shane slipped in and out of consciousness as per his body’s needs, whether that be food, water, or using the restroom. He didn’t truly wake up until the next day, well past the time he was supposed to go to work.

He waited to feel alarmed, or for the need to rush through the movements to get ready for work, but he just laid there.

He reached out blearily for his phone, surprised to see it wasn’t dead yet, but it was damn near close. He wasn’t surprised, however, to see multiple texts and calls.

3 Missed Calls

2 Voicemails

9 Unread Messages

Shane unlocked his phone to see all that all the missed calls were from Ryan. Of the text messages, three of them were from Steven, starting from last night.

_10:59pm_

_S: Hey man, you feeling better?_

_7:04am_

_S:vHey Shane, hope you’re feeling okay. If not, don’t worry about coming into work, take it easy._

_9:39am_

_S: As funny as it is to see Ryan running around like a chicken with his head cut off, you might want to call him if you feel up to it. He’s a little worried (not that I’m not, but I’m definitely not at Ryan’s level of mother-Henning)_

Shane gave a dry smile at that before looking at Ryan’s nine text messages and calls, also starting from last night.

_7:39pm_

_R: Hey big guy, how’re you doing?_

_9:23pm_

_R: Probably feeling like death, then?_

_11:40pm: Missed Call_

_11:44pm_

_R: I’m hoping you’re just knocked out on NyQuil or something_

_R: Hope you get better, dude_

_8:17am_

_R: Steven's laughing at me, but I’m really worried dude. Please call me?_

_8:20am: Missed Call_

_8:21am: Voicemail_

_10:02am_

_R: Okay. I’m panicking. Either you’ve been asleep for like 22 hours or something happened._

_10:05am: Missed Call_

_10:07am: Voicemail_

Shane sat up, wincing at his head rush. He hadn’t meant to worry Ryan. He must’ve been conked the fuck out to not feel his phone vibrating.

Chest heavy, he decided to check the voicemails before calling Ryan.

_8:21am_

_Hey Shane. I know I’m probably being paranoid and you’re going to listen to this and laugh like always, but I’m…worried. I guess. Please be alright. Wow, that sounded fucking stupid. Um. Call me back, I think is what I’m trying to say._

_10:07am_

_Okay. I…honestly, I’m not being productive at work anymore, so I should just leave. Logically, I know you’re probably just asleep and haven’t checked your phone, but I’m really worried so. I don’t know. Fuck. I…I’m coming over. I need to know. God, I’m probably just going to embarrass myself._

Shane was out of bed like a lightning bolt. He checked the time.

10:20am.

Fuck, Ryan was probably almost here. He couldn’t—he wasn’t ready—

Fuck.

He couldn’t face Ryan right now.

He grappled for his phone again, thumb positioned to call Ryan and tell him he was fine, to go back to work, but _of course,_ his phone decided right then to die.

_Fuck, fuck, fuck._

Shane grabbed his charger, almost ripping it out of the socket in the process. He tapped at the maddeningly slow power-on sequence but he knew it was a losing battle. By the time he would even have signal—

His frantic movements were interrupted by knocking at his door.

His shoulders sagged. Of fucking course.

_What if I just don’t answer it?_

“Shane? You there?”

Shane felt frozen. He was also kind of reeling from the contrast between being asleep for too many hours before suddenly having to think too much too fast.

He rolled his eyes as his traitorous phone finally powered on.

“Shane?”

He could hear the door handle rattle as Ryan tried to turn it. Fuck, he would probably call the cops if Shane didn’t answer.

“Coming!” Shane called, surprised to find his voice hoarse from disuse.

He gave a last-ditch effort of trying to run his hands through his hair in a way to hopefully make it presentable. He knew it was futile, considering he could feel the crust at the corner of his eyes.

_Gross._

He scrubbed his palms across his face as he made his way to the front door.

He rested his hand against the lock for a second, bracing himself.

_I can’t believe I’m asking you this, but any last second advice?_

_…You’re on your own, sasquatch._

Even his own brain was betraying him.

Shane opened the door.

Ryan was…well, he looked about as anxious as he did on Unsolved shoots, which was very. But it was unfair how quickly it dissolved into relief upon seeing Shane. No one should be able to look at Shane, especially in the state he was in, and feel any resemblance of joy. But Ryan was grinning ear to ear, stepping into his space, _hugging him._

Shane felt numb.

Was he going to lose this?

It took him a second to realize Ryan had stepped back and was talking a mile a minute.

“—know I shouldn’t have just shown up, but I was freaking out and—”

“Hey,” Shane cut in gently, “it’s okay, man. Really.”

“—I honestly don’t even know what I was thinking—”

“ _Ryan,_ ” Shane said, a little more forcefully, and this time it got Ryan’s attention. He stared wide eyed, and only then did Shane notice how _tired_ he looked. His hair was not styled, and his clothes were rumpled. Shane could only guess for it to be from haphazardly rushing over.

“It’s okay. Look, I’m fine. Just lil’ old me,” Shane reassured, stretching his arms out in emphasis.

Ryan stared for another couple of seconds before _finally,_ “I don’t think ‘lil’ is the right terminology. Old is pretty spot on though.”

Shane faked a pout. “I’m not going to take that seriously because you actually left work to make sure I wasn’t dead. So.”

Before Ryan could snap back with something, Shane stepped aside, gesturing for Ryan to come inside.

“ _Excuse_ me for being a concerned—friend,” Ryan huffed, taking Shane’s offer. Shane tried not to overthink the way Ryan had paused.

Predictably, Ryan made himself at home on Shane’s couch, dropping his laptop bag onto the ground.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better, though.”

Shane half-followed, answering with a noncommittal shrug. He felt strangely exposed, standing awkwardly in his own living room, limbs akimbo. He was too far from Ryan to be engaged in conversation but too close to stay silent. Slowly, he could feel himself become much too aware of his body. The skin of his forearms felt heated.

He swallowed, hard, and it was embarrassingly audible.

“…you _are_ feeling better, right?” Ryan asked, eyeing him sideways from the couch.

_No._

_How am I supposed to tell you that you caring about me makes me feel worse?_

_You mean so much to me and the only way I can make sure I don’t fuck up your life is to say something that will hurt you._

“I uh. I don’t know if I was ever really sick to begin with,” Shane admitted. He suddenly found the uneven drawstrings of his hoodie very interesting.

He heard Ryan shift to a more upright position on the couch. “What, you were just playing hooky?”

Shane felt himself scoff out of pure astonishment at the term “hooky”.

“The fuck? I wasn’t _playing hooky_ , I was—. Fuck. I don’t know.”

“…great explanation,” Ryan muttered, clearly unimpressed.

This was one of the things he loved about Ryan. He never pushed, but he was still upfront about his feelings on a subject. And Shane…

Shane owed him the truth, at the very least.

“I was conflicted, I guess. And seeing you—it was hard.”

Shane hadn’t expected his throat to feel weirdly rough, but it did. He swallowed again, trying to ease the rawness he felt seeping in.

“Conflicted about what?” Ryan asked, stupidly gentle.

_He’s not stupid for being gentle, Shane._

_No. It’s stupid he hasn’t realized that there’s seriously something wrong with me._

Shane felt in his gut where this conversation was heading, and he wasn’t ready for it. It felt like his kneecaps had been replaced by Jell-O.

“You know,” he managed, low and strained.

And he watched as it dawned on Ryan, in a way that was almost painful. That Shane was thinking about the decision, and the only reason he would feel _conflicted_ to the point of leaving work was if…

“Oh.”

To Ryan’s credit, he didn’t even sound hurt. Just a little dumbfounded.

Ryan shifted again, and it was his turn to avoid Shane’s eyes.

“Ryan, I—,” Shane began.

“No, it’s—we said we’d be adults about it—”

“it’s not that I don’t—”

“No, I know. I _know_ , Shane,” Ryan emphasized, effectively cutting Shane off.

All the guilt that had been dormant in Shane was clawing it’s way up his esophagus, cutting off his airway, taking away his speech. Ryan had fucking— _left work_ to make sure Shane was okay and this is what Shane gave him?

Fuck.

“Stop that,” Ryan said, standing in front of Shane, suddenly.

Shane opened and shut his mouth multiple times, unable to get his vocal cords to function. Ryan seemed to catch his gist though.

“Stop with the…whatever you’re making yourself feel. Don’t feel bad. You’re allowed to—to make decisions, even if you think other people won’t like them,” Ryan said, forcefully.

Which took Shane down another level of self-hatred because now _Ryan_ was trying to console _him._

Apparently, Shane’s dilemma was written all over his face because Ryan rolled his eyes.

“Shane. Listen, big guy. I promised, no matter what, you’d still be my best friend. And you still are. You didn’t mess anything up,” Ryan tried again, making deliberate eye contact in a way that reminded Shane of the way people watched their pets eat to make sure they ate their medicine.

Despite that, it did ease something in Shane. The weird internal death grip on his throat seemed to relax just enough. The guilt would linger, he knew, but…he still, by some miracle, had Ryan.

“I’m sorry,” Shane said, because he _had_ to. He needed Ryan to know that.

Ryan just shook his head. “Don’t be.”

They stood for a couple moments without saying anything. While it wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, there was something intimate about it. A silence that can only be shared between people who knew everything there was to know about each other.

“Can I—if you don’t mind, can I ask why?” Ryan questioned. There was something so incredibly sincere about it; it made Shane’s heart ache in the way it had when Ryan tenderly wrapped a bandage around his finger. An open innocence.

And without really meaning to, Shane was telling him everything. How he had liked Ryan for a while (though he did have the presence of mind to leave out the part where he would say “I’ve actually been in love with you, so much so that I manifested an annoying version of you in my head”), how he had made a plan, his list, how Ryan had looked at work that made Shane realize that he could never get between that.

Shane rambled on for probably far too long, but Ryan listened, somehow bewildered and expressionless at the same time.

Finally, Shane finished talking and Ryan just stared.

Immediately, Shane was rethinking everything he said, _what had he said wrong—_

And then Ryan was _laughing_. Hard. Not the polite chuckle kind of laughing, but the wheezing so hard he couldn’t speak kind of laughing.

Shane couldn’t decide if that made him more or less nervous, but either way, a small smile was fighting it’s way across his face.

“Wh—What’s so funny?”

Amidst the raucous laughter, Shane could make out two words. 

“You _idiot!_ ”

All Shane could do was gape until Ryan was coherent enough to speak.

“Okay, okay,” Ryan gasped. “Let me get this straight. You, _Shane Madej_ , made a plan to…to not date me?”

Shane could feel his face get warm.

“Well, of course it sounds ridiculous when you put it like that! My reasons make sense,” he insisted, defensive.

Ryan tilted his head, doubting. “You mean the _one_ reason, which is actually more on _me_ since it pertains to my relationship with my work?”

Shane opened his mouth to uphold his point but found no logic to back it up. He instead just made a series of protesting noises. Ryan raised an eyebrow.

“Okay. Hear me out, and _then_ see how you feel, okay?” Ryan asked. Shane just nodded dumbly.

“I do love my work. But, my passion for my work comes from _me._ Even if, for some godforsaken reason, all my projects went down the drain, I would still love working because I love _creating,_ if that makes sense.”

Shane nodded again, sensing Ryan had more to say.

“And, I think—part of the reason I like the projects I do have is because I get to do them with you. I like… I like working with you, and being around you in general,” he continued, rubbing at the back of his neck. “And, if you haven’t noticed, I’m _here_ instead of at work. If you…had any doubts about where my priorities lie.”

Shane blinked repeatedly, trying to comprehend. “So, um…to summarize…?”

Ryan sighed, rolling his eyes.

“I care more about _you_ , you asshole. My passion for my work is…expendable. You aren’t.”

  1. ~~If it didn’t work out, it would ruin Ryan’s passion projects~~



_I’ve been an idiot_

_…I wasn’t gonna say it_

_Shut up, Ryan_

“I…I guess I jumped to conclusions,” Shane admitted.

Ryan grinned, dopily. “You probably didn’t have to jump very high. Since you’re…tall, already.”

He trailed off, face wrinkling at the anti-climactic ending.

“Not your finest work,” Shane pointed out.

Ryan mimed a defeated motion, before his face dropped into something more serious.

“Does that, um…change your mind, at all?” He asked, before rushing to add: “It’s okay if it doesn’t.”

Shane pondered a moment.

He didn’t have to think long. To have a shot with Ryan with no moral obstacles in the way?

Only a fool would give that up, and he’d been a fool long enough.

“It definitely does,” Shane said, softly. He liked the way Ryan’s face melted a little in response. “But, you can still…y’know. Take your time thinking about it.”

This time, Ryan swallowed hard.

“I may have, uh, overestimated how much time I’d need,” Ryan responded, looking sheepish.

Shane raised his eyebrows, trying to clamp down on the warm feeling preemptively spreading it’s way across his chest.

Ryan grinned mischievously before stretching onto his tiptoes.

For the second time within a week, Shane found himself being kissed by Ryan Bergara. He was quick to kiss back this time.

He had never been so happy to throw his mental list away into a figurative trash can.

His hands found their way to Ryan’s face, forming a gentle cradle to deepen the kiss. There was a profound relief blooming in him, knowing that he wouldn’t feel incredibly guilty tomorrow. To know that there would _be_ a tomorrow with Ryan.

_Took you long enough, Madej._

_Yeah, yeah. Hey, here’s an idea. Get lost? I infinitely prefer real you._

His mind went blessedly quiet.

Ryan ended up not going back to work, and they agreed to profusely apologize to Steven the next day. They spent their afternoon watching movies, then choosing to ignore them in favor of lazily making out on the couch.

As the sun set, Ryan took his leave, which left Shane alone in the apartment. He missed Ryan already, but he was content in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. He couldn’t remember the last time he had just…let himself feel freely.

He let himself miss Ryan, he let himself be excited about seeing him tomorrow. He indulged in daydreams about what the next couple weeks, the next couple _months_ would hold.

Shane was always a go-with-the-flow kind of guy when it came to opportunities and events and whatnot, but he always thought he had his feelings in control. Turns out, he was in dire need of adopting his laissez-faire outlook to that aspect of his life. Because, somehow, despite his best efforts, it had led him to Ryan.

And whether he knew it before or not, that was right where he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys liked this chapter, please let me know what you think! There will be one more epilogue chapter :) kind of sad to be finishing this fic up, it was so fun to write!  
> I have a tumblr if you're into that: @makeyourparadise


	13. All the Lovey-Dovey Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, Shane is at ease

Shane was in love with Ryan Bergara, and it was great.

He feels like he should be used to it, at this point. He and Ryan had been together for nearly two years. But, even now, holding his hand at Disney felt like a novel experience.

PDA had never been Shane’s scene, but he didn’t mind it with Ryan. He wondered if it was because he had denied himself the ability to look and touch for so long that it had stripped down his inhibitions.

He probably looked like an idiot, staring at Ryan scrolling on his phone with a fond look on his face.

A ride whizzed by, the echo of people screaming in joy/terror going with it.

Amusement parks weren’t Shane’s favorite either, but he sure had been going to a lot of them since he had started dating Ryan. He could stomach the long falls though, to see Ryan’s adrenaline high from something other than nonexistent beings.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” Ryan asked, amused, having looked up from his phone.

Shane smiled, the soft kind of smile that bordered on being secret. “Because I love you.”

Ryan blinked a couple times before his own face melted into a grin.

Shane remembered how he used to have to look away when Ryan smiled like this. Because it had been hard to see something so beautiful and hide having to love it. But he looked back steadily now.

“You’re a dork,” Ryan snorted, stretching up to plant a chaste kiss on Shane’s cheek. “And I love you, too.”

No matter how many times Ryan had already told him that (Shane was still a little salty that Ryan had managed to say it before he did), Shane was a bit shocked each time.

Shane leaned down to press a kiss to Ryan’s mouth. Life was good.

That night, they watched the fireworks as ice cream melted down their fingers.

Shane liked watching the shells shoot into the air. Strangely, he felt like he related to them. Shot off in a random direction, going the general way they were aimed unless the wind decided different, and then unknowingly bursting into something beautiful.

Shane had tried to fight his own trajectory, afraid of blowing up.

He had not realized that the act of exploding wasn’t destructive, it was _cathartic._

Not everyone was like that, Shane had realized. They could choose their life direction and make it work, but for Shane, he tended to choose directions that denied him what he wanted.

There was a reason he had always been a go-with-the-flow guy. That’s how life worked out best for him. And it had not failed to deliver so far.

Shane turned his head to watch Ryan instead. They’d seen this show many times, but Ryan was still captivated. The colors played across Ryan’s face, and Shane felt warm, despite the cold ice cream now dripping onto his jeans.

Shane reached out with his non-sticky hand and laid it over the hand Ryan was leaning on.

So yeah, no more plans for Shane.

Well. He had been guilty of making _one_ plan that would require him to be involved in subsequent planning later.

 _This was the exception_ , he thought, running the pad of his thumb across the engagement band on Ryan’s finger.

Besides, it wasn’t as much of a plan as it was a commitment, and he didn’t have problems with commitment. Especially when they involved Ryan, Disneyland, kissing under fireworks, and something about doing it for the rest of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had so much fun writing this fic! Just a disclaimer: I love Shane and Ryan as well as their relationships with their significant others! I just thought this was a super cute story to write and I mean no disrespect :)  
> Let me know what you guys thought of this ending--too cheesy?   
> The tea is, this is the first multi-chapter fic I've ever finished. I usually lose motivation but there was something about this one that kept me going! It was probably all the wonderful, encouraging comments :)  
> Anyways, thank you for reading. If you're into Tumblr, I have one! @MakeYourParadise


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